Let Summer Shine
by TheFandomnessGirl
Summary: Summer seems like a normal, popular girl, but really the only true friend she has is the internet. When she meets a vague guy similar to her on a chat site, he won't tell her much about himself. Who is this mysterious message-sender? PhilxOC
1. Meet Summer, Internet Freak

**Happy birthday Josie, LittleMissMissfit. This story's for you~**

**Chapter 1**

Summer hated mornings, especially in the season named after her. Ironic, but true. She couldn't stand it when dust was visible, twirling and twisting in the stream of sunlight. Warmth was not a feeling she often felt, so suddenly feeling it Her long, perfectly straight black hair mocked her name and her blue eyes caused her a lot of interest in public. They weren't like a normal blue, they were like a stunning royal blue that caused people to stare after her – sometimes with jealousy, sometimes with cruel pointy thoughts.

Summer wasn't like everyone else. Yes, original. A girl who doesn't fit in, secretly beautiful, the usual. Not exactly. Summer seemed like a funny, popular girl from first glance but if you got to know her she was just a loner who confided in the internet. She looked very gothic and dark, but really, she just loved a bit of YouTube.

Who, on YouTube, you may be asking? Well, an awful lot of people. She was subscribed to her friend Imogen, who did covers of songs and spoke about really random things that usually made no sense. She was subscribed to vSauce, the best ever science channel in the history of random science questions. She was subscribed to Zoella, even though she wasn't a makeup kind of girl, Marcus Butler, Caspar Lee, Joe Sugg (who she thought was really hot) and Alfie, who she shipped with Zoe. British YouTubers aside, she loved Good Mythical Morning and always laughed along with Rhett and Link, and Game Theory, even though she never actually played any of the Game Boy style games they asked crazy questions on. She couldn't stand Shane Dawson, probably because he was so rude and obnoxious and he brought up the fact that he was a fat teenager every two minutes, but she didn't mention it to anyone because she was scared that people would hate her more than they already did.

But most of all, she loved Phil. AmazingPhil. She liked his friend, Dan, but Phil, _wow_. She loved how original he was, how many tags he had created and yet got no credit for, how adorably awkward he was, and just him in general. She didn't realise how cute a 27-year-old man could be. Yes, that sounds creepy, but her heart just melted like a stick of butter every time she saw him. She grew up in Lancashire, where he grew up too, and she aspired to be a vlogger just like him.

That's why when she turned 17 she had already left school, which was a huge weight off her shoulders. She got decent grades, mostly As, one or two A*s, and a B which she was very upset with, but she managed to shrug it off pretty quickly. With some celebratory money that her parents gave her she bought a purple video camera which she cherished but she was too shy to actually film anything. After a lot of awkward recordings with minimal editing she decided to just not show her face at all, like Cryaotic. She spoke, and showed her hands when she did piano covers, but that's about it. She was so unpopular that for days she got no views, so she kept clicking the refresh button over and over to see if Imogen had watched it. She never did. Sometimes they got a view, maybe off her parents, maybe off Imogen, if she could be bothered. Honestly, sometimes Summer thought she was so self-centred that she wouldn't care if all her friends and family died on she spot. They never really spoke outside school, and any messages usually ended up like this:

SummerShine29: Hey x

ImmyWimsy384: (2 hours later) Heyyy

SummerShine29: (1 minute later) So, wuut?

ImmyWimsy384: (7 hours later) nm jc, u?

SummerShine29: (2 minutes later) Sleeping -_-

ImmyWimsy384: (34 minutes later) ur such a downer, tbh... u need to get off the internet and stop using this face -_-

SummerShine29: Sorryyy! Plz can I just get some sleep, it's almost midnight...

ImmyWimsy384: Okay, fine. Ik ur gonna be on the internet until 4 am tho :/

SummerShine29: ***SummerShine29 has gone offline***

Summer had no idea why Imogen acted like that; she was such a role model when they were children. But somehow they just drifted apart, so the more Imogen told her to get off the internet, the more she'd stay on, not just to be rebellious, but to show her that she didn't do exactly as she'd say anymore, like the big bully she used to be. She could do as she wanted and her opinion was invalid. However, although her internet was her haven, her videos always depressed her, as she rarely got into double digits. The more she edited she more views she'd get, so she downloaded a cheap video editor and worked away on her crappy videos. Hopefully, she thought, I'll get somewhere. Maybe I'll get a subscriber.

Summer said to her mum once, 'If the internet was a person, it'd be funny, smart, yet wrong some of the time, cool, awkward, yet very creepy, dirty minded, social, but it'd be my bestest ever friend.' and then she added, 'Okay, scrap "bestest ever friend." I sound like a six-year-old.' Her mum laughed at the time, but was worried about her daughter and her beloved internet. She warned her about horror stories on the world wide web from a young age but she never really acted on it until it was too late and her precious little girl was addicted. She wasn't so sure about her being on YouTube, where anybody could 'google' her name and for her to be seen everywhere. She dreaded the idea of having friends and followers galore and interacting with people you've said two words to. The idea of chat sites like Omegle terrified her just picturing her daughter broadcasting her face to millions of people worldwide. Who's to say that they take a screenshot of her and show it to all their friends, and they make it go viral? It's very unlikely, but it always seems likely in a mother's mind. In their large-ish house in the village they lived with their father, and two Labradors called Suki and Peppi, Suki being golden, Peppi being chocolate.

Summer crawled out of bed, thrusting the curtains shut in the blink of an eye. She growled and slumped on the end of her uncomfortable 'bed', which was more like a cave of pillows and duvets than a well-made bed. She snatched her phone from her bedside table and tapped on a button that made the screen flash. She slid her thumb across the screen to unlock it and tapped on the familiar messages icon. She stared at the new text, trying to keep her eyes open. 'Hello Sarah...' etc etc. Summer hated these things, as some idiot named Sarah had obviously put the wrong details into some company, and now, look what happened? She had over 300 texts I under two months asking for her to claim some PPI or look at some loan statement she'd done. Talk about advertising...

She let her phone thud against the white surface and hesitantly got up. Her navy blue pyjamas slipped down her long legs as she straightened herself up. What time was it? 9:50, according to her purple watch. So much for my alarm, she said to herself, mumbling under her breath. She stumbled over to her mirror, prodding at certain areas on her face that were covered in spots or lumps or other imperfections. She sighed, but didn't really care. Nobody's going to see my face anyway, right? She thought.

She flung on a pair of loose-fitting black jeans and her treasured Dan and Phil t-shirt, before running a brush through her hair and brushing her teeth. She stared at her perfectly straight black hair, which many girls envied. What would they do with it anyway? Comb it? Dye it? What? To her, it was just hair. Some strands that grow out of the top of your head. It just so happened that she didn't have to straighten hers every morning, not that she would bother to anyway.

One day she logged on to a chat site to see an unusual name that she hadn't seen before – LionTheSnowDude. The foreign name beckoned her to click on it, so she did. 'Hey' she typed in at the speed of light.

'Hi :D' he responded.

The awkward conversation started out with asking questions, like, 'What's ur name?' to which she replied, 'Summer :)' and he wouldn't tell. She found it suspicious but didn't question it. Age? 'Almost 18' she responded. '27' he said, which shocked her. She didn't realise that older people came on these sites. She let it go, and started asking every non-awkward question, yet trying to avoid the dreaded _asl? _After getting past the strange getting-to-know-each-other bits they started to talk like normal people, which is why she was glad she didn't move on to another person while conversation took a turn for the awkwardness.

They spoke for two hours until they were both tired of each other, which seemed like they would never be. They had so much in common – they both loved YouTube, Muse, and the colour blue, and lions. She considered him an online buddy and asked him for his email, as the site sometimes randomly reset. He sent it to her, _lionloveslioness_, which she wasn't surprised at, and typed out a quick email briefly explaining that it was her and a little bit about herself. They both agreed to speak in the morning because it was pretty late and they had already established that they both lived in England. Although she didn't even know him and people lie a lot on those kind of sites Summer felt like they had some kind of cheesy connection. Maybe if they lived close enough they could be friends was a thought that was constantly reappearing in the back of Summer's mind.

He had confessed to her once before that he wasn't a snow dude at all, and he just called himself that on chat sites from a young age. And lion – all he said there was that he's obsessed with the furry creatures, he even had a lion plush toy. She had joked that he reminded her of a certain YouTuber but he reassured her that he was just a random guy on the internet.

Summer loved chatting to Lion, as she called him, but he would never tell many things about himself. She wondered why but tried to let it go. Maybe he's famous, was one of her thoughts. Maybe he's a criminal, was another. But she'd probably scare him off if she mentioned any of them as she usually did with strangers. So she kept the thought to herself, as she did most of the time.


	2. LionTheSnowDude

******Chapter 2**

Cautious not to whack my head on my low shelves, I slump down in my blue desk chair and start to open my laptop with random stickers from various fandoms plastered across the back. I stroke the touch-pad thing that controls the mouse's movement and click on the YouTube symbol which is permanently on my desktop. I allow the lousy Wi-Fi to kick in before I type in AmazingPhil in the search bar. No new videos. I check my other subscriptions but not many people have uploaded. Lucky me. I guess that's what I get for being online from 3AM, nobody likes uploading first thing in the morning, well, unless you're Rhett and Link. Maybe I should check on Lion, I haven't spoken to him in two or three days. I open my email and see – nothing but YouTube notifications. Maybe he's busy, or on holiday. People usually go on holiday when it's warm, right?

I sling my galaxy backpack on and start heading down the stairs, shrugging as my mum asks me, 'Have you only just got up?' I give her a quirky smile as I do when I lie, before running to her and hugging her waist. 'Aw, love,' she grins next to my ear before giving me a peck on the cheek. I can't resist mum's hugs, she's just so nice that I have to hug her whenever I see her. I end the embrace and do a mini-jog to the door, catapulting a few things in there as I make my way past the entrance. A notepad and a pen, of course, my phone, some gum, and a bottle of Sprite.

I pop some of the chewing gum into my mouth and roughly bite it as I yell goodbye to my mum. I make my way up the road until I find some mover's vans parked outside Mrs Jenkins, the elderly woman who lived at the end of the road's house, carrying certain things in and removing others. Mrs Jenkins was a humble old woman and she wouldn't dare move – she'd lived there all her life. That must've meant that the poor woman died, oh. She was about 84, granted, but still, what an unexpected time to die. I guess not everyone gets a chance when they live or die... I guess nobody gets a chance when you live or die, I suppose. Well, unless you commit suicide...

I stroll up to one of the carriers, and politely ask, tripping over some invisible obstacle, 'Um, hi. Is somebody new moving in, or has Mrs Jenkins died?'

'No, no, love. Her grandson's moving in with her, she's been diagnosed with cancer recently.'

'Oh, God!' I reply, shocked. I'm not really surprised at all, to be completely honest. The woman smokes like a chimney. 'Is it terminal, or...?'

'I don't know, love. I'm just a mover.'

'Ha, fair enough. Wouldn't want to be looking into everyone's business!'

'I've seen more than one person fired for that kind of thing,' he says, slightly more serious than I expected.

'Well, I have to go, but tell me when they're done if you see me. I'd quite like to see him. He must be pretty old if he's moved? Is it just him coming to live with her?'

'Yeah, just the one. Got an awful lot of stuff, though. Had to go to London and back with all this rubbish!' the man groans in his distinctive northern accent.

'God! He better be nice or give a large tip, or someone won't be happy!' I joke, starting to walk away.

'Yeah, too right!' he plays along, chuckling. He turns to his buddies before grabbing a coffee table and hauling it out of the truck, so I turn to face where I'm going and focus on my destination. Redding's Peak. I was never quite sure why they called it Redding's Peak, as there was no place to be seen for miles called Redding. Either way, that never fazed me to come here and just sit. And stare. And wait for something to happen. But nothing ever did. The sky slowly faded into a black blur after a while, and stars would emerge from the night sky like pimples. That's a nice way to think about it, isn't it? But apart from that, there was next to nothing exciting that happened in these fields, and that's why I like it. No drama, no loud annoying people, no judgement or envy or hurt. Just... peace. Yet it never lasted for long, as when it turns cold, these peaks are the worst places to get hypothermia.

I smooth my hair out as I reach the top of the emerald hill I was climbing and peer over the small-ish cliff that is always directly hanging over a bundle of tall dead grass, that sounds like a nice soft pillow, but trust me. When Imogen wrestled me off that peak, it was like landing on a lot of dead spikes. I can see why they call them 'blades' of grass now, at least.

The sky is a shimmering blue, poofy clouds scattered across the sky, and I realise that the day looks just about perfect. The sun is teasing the valley in front of me by peeking it's rays through the gaps in the clouds, not daring to let the field be entranced in a blanket of gold, and the trees are gently blowing backwards and forwards, happy in their state of tranquillity. I'm just happy being isolated, staring at all of this, but the internet is still, and always will be, where I'm at peace the most. I check my phone, unzipping the backpack and emptying the contents onto a rock beside me. I swipe the screen to unlock it and check my emails, though I can't send any since I'm off Wi-Fi. I had one or two notifications from YouTube telling me someone had uploaded, which made me sigh, as I thought in a snappy tone, 'Come on, as soon as I leave the house guys? Have some _consideration_!' I had an email which I wasn't expecting, though, from Lion. I tap on it, my large clumsy thumb almost clicking something entirely different.

___SummerShine29,_

___Hi! Sorry I've not been able to chat, I've found out that my relative's sick and I have to go see her. Unless she has some great Wi-Fi, I'm not going to be able to chat. She lives northern like I said I used to, but we're probably way to far apart to actually meet, but picture if we were! That'd be so awesome! So, um, here's my phone number, so we can text rather than email. Please don't spam meeeee!_

___- Lion :)_

Huh. So Lion has just given me his phone number. Just like that. At least I can message him without Wi-Fi now. I tap on his phone number and save it to my contacts, naming him _Lion :3. _Anyone who sees my phone now is going to think it's some sort of crazy nickname for someone now but not many people get to see past the amazing AmazingPhil wallpaper I have, so I don't think anyone'll question it.

I tap out a quick text, not really sure what to say. Emails are so different to texts – texts are like for close friends, right!?

___Lion, hi! It's Summer and... yeah, hi! Text me when you read this so I know I have the right number. Byeeee :)_

Oh gosh that was painfully awkward. But I hit send anyway, because #IronicYolo and picture the invisible text flying through the air into Lion's phone and it beeping unexpectedly. Quicker than I expected I get a reply, _I has read it!_ And I laugh at how funny he sounds. I think of something breezy to say, but all that channels out of me and into the text is, _How dare you!? Now I have to start paying to speak to someone whose name I don't even know!? Unbelievable! :D._ And I can picture him laughing, his black hair swooshing over his blue eyes. I only know this because when he asked me to describe myself over the chat site I just said, weird, blue eyes, straight black hair. And to my surprise he said that he had the exact same. Don't worry, I'm not a stalker... Okay, maybe I am in some aspects, like trying to find out what exact house Phil used to live in so I can start snooping round and seeing who lives there now (lucky idiots). I would pay... Um, the amount that the house is worth, plus five pounds, to live there. I think five pounds would be all that I'd have left over, so that's probably why...

I grin to myself as he replies_, ____You idiot. But you're a funny idiot. So I like you._For some reason I blush when he says that, and I don't blush often. I think it's because I rarely get paid compliments, so when the rare occasion occurs, my face turns crimson and I start breathing deeply to try not to look like a tomato. I don't really know how to reply, so I just send him a pic of the view, the blue and the green colliding at the horizon, the sun's golden touch appearing in stripes across the landscape, and tap send, along with a___Thanks! I like you too :)_

Pictures on my phone always take days to send, not literally. But they still take a good few minutes to send, so I spend that time etching out my every thought onto the tinted blue notepad paper I brought, along with the best pen in the world – a 3D fox pen made out of real wood that my mum bought me for my 14th birthday, and I still treasure it today. I start to write down my thought, but not like a diary, no, no, no. I do this in a funny way. I don't draw or write, I sort of do both at once. I drite? Or wraw? Wow, ship names do NOT work for everyday activities. It's almost like a more developed doodle. I think I'll use that term more from now on. Anyway, what I do is that I write all the words that are going through my head, so if I think of an apple, I'll write apple. But unfortunately, the human brain thinks over 80,000 words a minute, so it's kind of hard to catch up. Instead of my usual quirky pieces, full of random thoughts, all I can think of is Phil and Lion. So that's what I write/draw. I sketch 'Phil' and 'Lion' all over the page in silly, formal, and serious fonts. In between any gaps I doodle question marks, some the usual, '?' some extremely detailed so they almost look 3-dimensional. In the corner there's an empty blob, so I do a small cartoon Phil, with a lion sitting on his shoulder. Perfect, I think, before I hear my phone beep with a message.

___Is that where you are? Awesome but how do you have any connection?__?_

I reply with a simple,___Well, it's pretty close to home, soooo..._

___Cool, wish I was there, stuck in traffic ;-; also this car stinks :(_

___Awwwww :( how long are you staying with this relative then?_

___Quite a while I think, got to move some furniture in with me, been a pain to do :/_

That's when I think of Mrs Jenkins.___Is____n't____ it ur grandma that ur moving in with?_

___Um... yeah, why?_

___Is she called Mabel Jenkins?_

___Holy crap, yeah, how do u know, u stalker!? 0.o_

___Um... about that... I sort of live down the road from her..._

There's no reply for at least six minutes – he's probably as stunned as I am. Woah. The amazing guy whose name I don't even know is going to be living four doors down from me. That's so crazy I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I would get back to my advanced doodles but this is is way too strange and creepy yet oddly exciting to miss. I send a quick text in the period of time he hasn't replied stating,___Hey, if we're gonna be neighbours I should at least know ur name!_It was honestly a joke but I'm not sure he took it that way.

___Are u at Redding's Peak?_he replies in an unclear tone after a good eight minutes, which shocks me a) because he replied and b) because he knows where I am.

___Yeah... I guess it's ur turn to be a stalker now :o_

___Ik! _he responds immediately.___I can't believe it – I used to go there all the time as a kid!_

___Really?_

___Yeah!_

___Where are u know then? Not to be creepy or anything lol_

___Lol I'm nearly there, 20 minutes off now, r u at that place with the big tree?_

___Yea I am! __I type excitedly, almost pressing the wrong keys altogether._

___I'll meet you there in 30 minutes, don't go anywhere ;) _is the dismissive last text I receive before before not replying.

I almost pee myself reading the last text he sends me. I don't reply, because, how can I say no? And although I don't know his name, seeing his face would mean the world! Wow, that was cheesy. But I don't care. And what was with that winky face? Argh! I'm so confused. I don't know what to do! I leg it home, grabbing all the makeup I can find, and spend a good twenty minutes attempting to apply the horrid stuff. I don't use an awful lot of each thing, as I don't want to appear clown-like, but I apply blobs of concealer to all my hazard areas so I don't look like a greasy teenager. I quickly dust some blush over my cheeks, but decide it looks creepy, like I'm a doll from a horror movie, so I wipe it off reluctantly. I. _Hate_. Makeup. I slowly apply some tinted lip-gloss, as I realise that it looks terrible on me. I just leave my lips natural, as any form of lip... product just makes me look like some form of zombie, clashing with my skin which happens to be the palest in the world. I steadily apply the tiniest bit of mascara that I found in my mum's cupboard, but she wouldn't have used it anyway – it was all crusty and nasty. I don't trust myself for the eyeliner, as that just seems scary, and knowing me I'll poke my eyes out attempting some form of cat-eye look that's 'in' right now and blind myself in the process. What's the point of trends if you're all going to look the same, seriously? I sigh, staring at myself straight in my icy blue eyes. I suppose anything else will just have to do.

I've been stood in front of the mirror for twenty minutes when I realise that he might be at his grandma's house or arriving ___right now_, so I peg it out of the door, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and run behind the mover's van so nobody can see me. I make it to Redding's Peak in under five minutes, which I'm pleased with, but I have to drink half a bottle of Sprite to keep up with all that energy lost. Let's just say that exercise is not my thing. As I lie under the sun, praying for a cold breeze to flow past my boiling cheeks, I suddenly feel a presence. Am I not alone any more? Is Lion here? I sit up, but don't look around, as I don't want to seem strange, spying for a man who is probably not even here yet. He's five minutes early... And he'd want to see his gran, right? Yeah, she's got cancer, for goodness sake. He'll be with her. Maybe he's not even coming at all. Maybe he forgot... Ah, shut up, Summer. He'll be here as fast as you can say -

'SummerShine29?' a voice that I ___swear_ I know disrupts me, and I don't look around, analysing the situation I'm in as I almost always do. As the voice has shocked me immensely, I clench everything that is able to clench, and grit my teeth as I cringe. I don't care if I look constipated - I'm so scared that I don't think about that. What if he actually was a murderer? I was not ready for this, no matter how much my inner inpatient child said, 'Is he here yet?' like a broken Sat-Nav. When he sees that I'm not moving, he taps my shoulder, and I loosen slightly under his touch, sensing that I'm not making him up. But I still can't seem to turn around. Or move at all, really. I allow my jaw to untighten and say softly, 'Yes... Lion?'

'How did you know?' I can hear him say, exasperated. I can hear him smiling.

'I swear I've heard that voice before. That sounds so creepy and stupid but I know.' I take the tiniest, silentest breath ever, like a serial killer was stood behind me with an axe to hack my head off.

'Um.. Maybe you should turn around? I don't know... I don't like talking to someone's back.' he chuckles. At least he's not being all dramatic too. This'd make this moment___so_ much more awkward.

I tighten again. I can't turn now. Oh, Summer, just turn around. Turn... Turn... Turn... I chant inside my head.

Turn... Turn...

The golden rays of sun hitting my face are not helping my blush here, I'm sweating, honestly. Thank___god_I didn't wear that awful blush. I would've looked like one of those Japanese girls from their wacky adverts, with the ghost-like skin and their signature make-up. And with this natural blush too? Wow, I could've just thrown some ketchup on my face and it'd have the same effect!

'Wait...' I say, breathy. 'You're...' And I don't need to turn round to know anymore. I know. And although I'm uncertain about most things, I know now. Lion is who I suspected all along...


End file.
